She needed to recover the money and ensure it found its way into Kingsley’s hands. Then slip away and go somewhere that no one would find her, where she could do no more damage to anyone.
Molly’s eyes glistened as she took a step closer, her hands wringing with distress. “Oh, Miss Granger… I mean Miss Fairchild! You look so lost. I wish I could do more to help! Are you sure His Grace can’t help you?”
Ester forced a smile, unwilling to burden the kind-hearted girl with her own fears.
“No, Molly,” she said gently. “I am resolved and content with my decision. I will wait until the Duke has finished his meeting and then recover my property. I won’t risk seeing either Kingsley or His Grace. I cannot chance one being in the other’s company.”She paused, her gaze steady. “Will you go now and carry out your plan? I shall make my way to the corridor of the study and wait.”
Molly nodded. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “In that case, I know what must be done.”
Without another word, she picked up the tray and left the room. Ester took a moment to don her cloak, her heart pounding against her ribs as if urging her onward. Just as she finished, an almighty crash followed by a sharp yelp echoed through the corridor. Before she had even registered the sound, her feet were already carrying her toward the noise.
Reaching the top of the stairs, she saw the tray and its contents scattered down the staircase. Molly was further down, sitting against the landing wall, her hair tousled and her eyes closed as though she had taken a terrible tumble. Peeking a little, she ruffled her hair some more and then let her head loll to one side.
Ester remained frozen in place, her heart racing, when the unmistakable sound of raised male voices drifted closer. They were coming from downstairs. She recognized one as Julian’s deep baritone—and then she caught another voice, one that made her blood run cold.Simon Thompson, the Viscount of Kingsley.
That voice jolted her into action.
She darted beyond the stairs, following her directions from Molly, to a small door set into the wood-paneled wall—made to resemble one of the panels. Her fingers fumbled for a momentas the voices drew nearer, before she managed to pull it open, revealing the narrow servants' stair. A minute later, she emerged into a dim corridor, one that allowed servants to move unseen through the castle. At the far end, a door led to the wing containing the Duke's study.
Her pulse quickened as she crept forward, pressing her ear against the wood when she finally reached the door, straining to catch any sound from within. Silence.
She counted to thirty, listening for any sign of life.Nothing.
Carefully, she pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. The room beyond was empty, the main door left ajar. The concerned voices of Julian and Crammond reached her faintly from somewhere deeper in the castle. She prayed it was a good distance from here.
Stepping fully into the room, Ester scurried her way to the desk. Swiftly yet methodically, she began searching through the drawers. In the last of three on the left side, her fingers brushed against the familiar cool leather of her old satchel. She sighed in relief, wriggling it free. But as she turned to leave, the sound of voices approaching from the hall froze her in place.
Fear gripped her. Her trauma resurfaced. She recognized the voice immediately. It was the voice of the Viscount Kingsley—a smooth, oily baritone as he spoke to another man.
Panic turned her insides to ice. Her heart hammered in her chest as she willed herself—with all her exertion—to move, just moveanywhere. The small, secret door she had entered through stood open, but it was all the way across the room. And the voices sounded just a few yards away now.
Desperation surged within her, and Ester suddenly broke from her trance and dropped to hands and knees behind the desk, hiding herself between the two sets of drawers that formed the pillars that supported the desk to either side. She held her breath. Anyone sitting at the desk would see her immediately, but if neither of the two men sat, they might not notice.
“Silly girl. But pretty. If I were staying the night, I might fancy my chances,” Kingsley was saying.
“But you have an appointment at the Obsidian this evening,” came the reply.
“Iknow! It was a hypothetical, you dunderhead. Besides, the last thing I require is having you in my ear constantly reminding me. It is bad enough I must endure their reminders that they possess the wealth I so desperately need. I don’t require it from my own servant!”
“A little more than a servant now, your lordship,” the man replied coolly. “Your business partner, you promised, with what I know.”
“Do not threaten me, you frightful oik!” Kingsley snapped.
“I do not threaten, your lordship. I merely remind that His Grace the Duke would not take kindly to discovering the extent of his business partner’s debts.”
“And if your man had not bungled a simple task, I would have had the funds to pacify my creditors and buy myself some breathing room!” Kingsley hissed. “Instead, I find myself in this wretched position. Sending a boy to do a man’s job!”
“He was interrupted by a nightwatchman,” the man protested defensively.
“A night watchman? He was interrupted by the Duke himself. The Ghoul, out for a nighttime ride,” Kingsley sounded scornful.
“He was supposed to take the money and leave. I did not pay him to harass the poor lass. He will get the whip when I see him next,” came a final murmur.
They were inside the room now, mere feet from where Ester cowered behind the desk. Her heart hammered so violently she feared they might hear it. Holding a trembling hand over her mouth, she struggled to quiet even the sound of her own breathing.
Someone approached the desk, came around it and Ester saw a pair of thick legs in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed whoever it was would not sit down.
He didn’t. Instead, he bent slightly and began tossing open desk drawers and rifling through the contents, muttering under his breath.
